


Chores Schmores

by HuggerMuggered



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: AHOT6 - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2014-03-10
Packaged: 2018-01-15 06:30:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1294909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HuggerMuggered/pseuds/HuggerMuggered
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael is very bad at washing the dishes and cannot possibly wait until they’re done to eat his dinner- Or, that time Michael was a caveman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chores Schmores

It really wouldn’t have ended up like this if they didn’t have to live by Jack’s God-damned chore chart’s whims.

 

The piece of shit construction paper project that had taken Geoff and Gavin three hours on a Sunday morning to pull together- just two weeks after they’d all moved in together, when the house had begun to suffer the dirt of six grown men and Jack had a near-breakdown trying to clean it all up- is staring Michael in the face. It’s five in the afternoon and he’s checking a piece of paper to see what the hell he’s supposed to clean up because otherwise he’ll get the look.

 

The look that Geoff gives anyone who doesn’t do their chores- because anything left undone invariably becomes Jack’s extra work, and he’ll never complain about it, so Geoff does it for him.

 

Fuck the fucking chore chart, seriously.

 

The bright rainbow sheet wheel of glitter and glue and stickers twinkles at him, and informs him that it’s his turn to do the dishes. He turns to check the damage, holding back a groan at the mountain of dirty tupperware and bowls and cups staring him in the face.

 

So Michael, just five minutes after waking up from a lovely afternoon cat-nap spent with Gavin and Ryan (Thank God for that- finally the man had fallen asleep. Had it been two days this time?) is faced with a dilemma. He can either begin dish duty to save himself time later, or he can join the four of his boyfriends he can hear rummaging around upstairs for clothes as they dress for the movies.

 

It’s not a hard decision.

 

Michael passes by Geoff, who remains near-catatonic on the couch and is not going to the movies, and head upstairs to mess around with the rest while they get dressed. He ends up convincing Gavin that green is definitely the color to go for tonight, helps Jack lace up his sneakers since he shouldn’t be bending over at the moment [he won’t say anything, but they all know he pulled something lifting boxes at work two days ago], and ends up ruining Ray’s hair with a noogie and getting Ryan’s huff of despair- as he’d just put away the comb moments before.

 

It’s good, quality time he wouldn’t get washing the dishes- that’s for sure.

 

But, eventually, the four are out of the door and Geoff’s waving at them lazily from the couch thumbing through his phone contacts and Michael is left with a daunting mountain of dishes and nothing to distract him except Geoff- who’s currently on the phone speaking in happy trills- so it’s probably Gus or Burnie on the other end discussing plans.

 

And that means it’s old man night- and he’s certainly not going to be around much longer.

 

Michael’s assumption is proven correct ten minutes later when Geoff strolls into the kitchen in an old tee-shirt and jeans and steals a kiss, leaning Michael over the counter for a moment where he’s sorting dishes into something that seems doable.

 

“Gotta run- Have fun with the dishes.” Geoff teases, and then he’s out the door and the house is Michael’s.

 

Well, fuck that dish nonsense then- the house is his.

 

Like anyone with a house to themselves and a chore to be done before his hours are up and the rest of his housemates come home, Michael sets along on doing absolutely anything that’s not the dishes. He plays Banjo and Kazooie for an hour, sings along to his music way too loud, answers some emails, watches some anime— by the time seven o clock rolls around he’s vegged on the couch so hard that only his stomach rumbling wakes him from his dozing.

 

He can’t very well wash all the dishes on an empty stomach, and there’s time still to do them, so he throws a steak from the fridge onto the George Foreman grill to cook really quick and grabs one of the last clean plates from the cupboard. He’s starving and it smells good- so he doesn’t mind burning his fingers as he tugs it off the cookery as soon as he’s sure it’s heated through. Then he turns to grab a fork.

 

And, well, you know the dish situation- that’s still a thing.

 

Michael double checks all the drawers but the only utensils they have that aren’t sunken at the bottom of the sink in two inches of dirty water are a teaspoon and a butter knife that’s bent at the tip. He glances at them briefly- contemplates reaching into the dirty sink water to find something more manageable for his steak, and then decides to give zero fucks and eat his dinner like a caveman.

 

The steak is delicious and rare- he’s really enjoying it; but there’s an equivocal law of nature that demands anyone enjoying anything in any remotely odd way has to be interrupted.

 

So of course his boyfriends come home through the back door a few minutes after he starts eating, laughing about camera angles and perfectly positioned to stare directly at Michael in abject horror while his teeth are lodged in a steak with juice running off his hands onto his plate.

 

There’s a rather intense stare-off for a few moments; Jack with his hand still on the doorknob looking completely puzzled, Ryan lifting a brow, Gavin looking ill, and Ray trying to see over anyone’s shoulder by twisting his head around their bodies. Michael stares right back, unphased— And keeps eating.

 

“Uh, Michael?” Ryan asks, stepping into the kitchen around Jack.

 

“Mmph?” Michael asks, still chewing.

 

“You, uh- huh…” Ryan trails off, lost for words.

 

“You didn’t do the dishes, did you?” Ray asks from behind Jack- finally able to see around the trio of taller men who were in the doorway.

 

“Nah.” Michael says, brushing juice off his chin. “I’ll get to it.”

 

“Uh-huh…” Jack says, blinking away his surprise. “Okay then- We’re just gonna…”

 

Jack doesn’t finish as he and Gavin trail out of the kitchen and into the living room and away, Ryan following after them a moment later. Ray stays behind, competing in a new staring contest with Michael as he chews.

 

Eventually, Ray decides to talk.

 

“So you, uh, wanna make me one too?” He asks, watching Michael gnaw around a bone.

 

“You gonna pansy out and ask for a knife?” Michael returns, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Probably.” Ray says honestly.

 

Michael purses his lips, glancing at the refrigerator and then the sink. He grabs his napkin and begins wiping down his hands.

 

“Half the dishes are yours.”

 

“Deal.”


End file.
